There You Were
by Blue Chance
Summary: You were there, my love... so why should I retell the story to you now? To myself? Why should I relive the pain?
1. Chapter 1

**Title:**There You Were

**Author: Blue Chance**

**Rating:**M

**Chapter Rating: **G

**Warnings:**Angst, dark themes

**Disclaimer: **It's all mine and I'm writing this for money... except I'm lying.

**Summary: **You were there, my love... so you know the story. Why am I retelling it now to you? To myself? Why should I relive the pain?

**Author's Note: **So... this is a bit of an odd story. It's odd because it is a new fandom for me, but I saw the movie and I could not leave it alone. I'm sectioning it off differently than is usual of me and the chapters are not led in to with quotes. Also, it's written with a type of narrative I've never used before in a story. Tom is speaking to the reader in a way, but he is telling his story as though he talking to Jane. I felt that he would not be speaking of their relationship to anyone but her, and I wanted to explore the story from his perspective. I do not quote anything directly from the movie, because if you're reading this I assume you've seen the movie - he goes over it as though from memory. Anything in quotes is mine. I did not just want this to be a retelling and rehashing of Becoming Jane. I do hope to bring something new to the table. We follow Tom through his encounters with Jane and things we did not see on screen.

Another thing that is different about this story is that it is not just fan fiction... it is something of a historical fiction as well. I researched the characters from the movie and have attempted to use fact and fiction together. I used fact to fill in some of the gaps that the movie left us with - and also just plain made some stuff up. I do not pretend to be an expert on Regency England, but I did research and I did try. So... thank you for trying this with me. I hope you like it and keep coming back for more!

*****

**There You Were**

**Part I: Hampshire**

**Chapter I**

*1*

I can make no claim to have loved you from the beginning. For it is true, as you may know, that I did not. For the sake of honesty I must admit that I did not initially find you to be anything special at all. I dare say you had the somewhat unfortunate advantage of forming a more solid opinion of me that day in your mother and father's parlor than I did of you. Late, uninterested... ignorant. I can not imagine what you may have thought me to be that day. First impressions, my dear. First impressions.

I have long since realized that our lives are not our own. Oh, yes... we are able to make decisions here and there. Will I stand idle? Will I dance with each single lady at the ball? These are little things that give us the illusion that we are in control of our lives, but we are not. By some horrible miracle (Is that ironic, my love? Or is it just tragedy?) I was sent to stay in the country against my will. My own actions had led me to this turn of events but my own actions could not save me from them. Had I been a different man - a better man, I might never have met you at all. The idea is singular in and of itself because, you see, meeting you is what made me a better man. In any case, we are all bound to lead the life we encounter, not the life we imagine... and all life is, is a succession of incidents. Unrelated and unbiased incidents that sometimes lead to change. Change in our situation. Change in our relationships. Change in ourselves.

*2*

So it was one day as I held a gun for, not the first time in my life, but for the first time in the company of my nervous uncle and cousin... that a small voice calling my name from outside startled me, and unfortunately the gun, in to action. It had not been my fault, I still maintain that the blame lay clearly with Lucy for having, indeed, been the small voice... but perhaps guns were not for me. I had always been more of a boxing man myself. It was clear that I was not the only person in the room to hold this opinion, and it was suggested, and can no longer remember from whom, that I go for a walk.

Which led to our second meeting. If our first was beyond my control, our second was even more so.

I was lost in muddy Selbourne Wood and there you were. Miss... what was it? I could not recall. I did not think, and nor did I care at the time, that it would offend you. I only knew that I had sat with your family in your home as we all listened to you rattle on about, God only knew what. Everyone around me seemed politely besotted by your written words. What had you been speaking about? Oh, yes. Your sister and her fiancé (happier times for us all). I could not listen as intently as the others. You spoke eloquently and you, no doubt, had talent - but I was unimpressed. I might have mentioned my frustrations aloud, and received a brief scolding from your brother, which left me feeling more amused than chided.

So as I saw you walking that day in the woods calling to you... Miss, Miss - unable to pull from the depths of memory your name, I was saved from trying as you spoke to me quickly and in passing.

Miss Austen. Oh yes, Miss Austen. Now I remembered... and I was vaguely disappointed that I had not encountered someone more diverting in my hour of need.

Yes, I am sorry. That is how I felt upon the beginning of our second meeting - but I confess it now, that was the very last time I ever felt disappointment when finding myself in your presence. You were quick witted and sharp tongued - though I could see that I made you uncomfortable. I was something different from what you were used to. A man not at all like the men who had vied and were at present vying for your affections. I was not bound to your country's polite manner of conduct and it seemed, though for all you tried, that neither were you. We had met twice and twice I had managed to offend you, this I knew because this you told me without ever admitting you had been offended. I had been unable to paste myself to your words at your family gathering which must have hurt your pride - for who amongst your people had ever told you that your talent was anything short of wonderful? Offense number one. Number two, of course, being my inability to recall the name of a woman whom I had only ever met once and whom, in my defense, was only one of the many I had been introduced to that day.

Also, to be fair, it was hard to remember much of anything after having endured Lucy Lefroy's... considerable singing talents in the parlor. I do, however, concede the point to the extent that, yes, I did fall asleep during your reading. There was no excuse for that but... good God, woman, there _was_ writing on both sides of those pages.

So, yes, you had every reason to ignore me, to keep walking as I called out to you - but once I was able to stop you from walking away from me, we spoke briefly of the woods we found ourselves in. I admitted to you that I found it unimpressive... nothing but mud and trees, perhaps offending you again by offending your country (admittedly, that was the point). I was a London man - by circumstance if not by birth, you see, and quite unable to understand why it was that anyone would choose to live so far away from, at least what I believed at the time to be, everything. You recommended (not so much a recommendation as it was an assignment) to me a book about the woods that I would later read - that you would later find me reading. That might have been the first clue as to my feelings for you. That not only would I never forget your name again, but that I should remember to read obscure book you had ever only mentioned to me once - and that you had not even mentioned by name.

So yes, as I said, I was disappointed at the beginning of our second meeting... but by the end, oh by the end. Your manner, your words, your peculiar elegance and passion. There was something about you that I could not immediately disregard. You left me and I called to you - asking if I had offended you, and you, dear Lady, swore I did not. Yet you left me there alone and lost, a testament to just how not offended you were. I found it amusing and beguiling at the same time. I think back to that day... and though I did not know, though I could not have known at the time - you had somehow secured my heart irrevocably as your own during those few moments in the woods. I can not tell you that was when I _knew_ I loved you, but I can tell you that I do now know that I loved you - not from the beginning as was previously admitted, but almost all along.

*3*

That night I lay staring up at the ceiling in my room at the Lefroys', thinking of many things. Contemplating my escape from Hampshire, my glorious return home. How I hated this place with it's somber grace - it's mundane predictability. Day in and day out everything was the same. Colourless and, please forgive me, ugly. My uncle, the judge, was teaching me a lesson, indeed (little did he know the cruel fate he had sealed for me in trying to teach me this lesson). And the lesson was this; I would have to practice a bit more discretion as I continued in my inappropriate behaviors with inappropriate company... lest I be sent away to live again in quiet and dull obscurity. Dull, colourless, and please forgive me again, ugly obscurity. Nothing had been interesting thus far in to my stay just as I had suspected nothing would be.

And then, yes and then... I thought of you.

Turning to my side, I tried to push the image of you - lovely, face flushed with embarrassed irritation - away. What were you doing in my head, I wondered. I had met many women in my life. Indeed I had... _experienced_ many women, but never had my thoughts turned to any of them so unexpectedly. Yet there you were. I had been wrong a few moments before in my thinking, I realized - for one thing had been interesting, and _that_ was it.

You were interesting.

I closed my eyes and again wished your face away, willing sleep to come. The sooner I fell asleep, the sooner it would be day. The sooner it was day, the sooner I could get on with all the boring redundancies the day had in store for me, and the sooner that was over with... the sooner I could get back to sleep. A few weeks worth of repetition of this and I would be home. Away from Hampshire. Away from the Lefroy's... And yes, away from you.

The sooner the better.

The ability to look back at the events in one's life with the perfect clarity of what was and the knowledge of what was still yet to be is an unfortunate circumstance of the human condition. For you see, I did not know it then - but I could not possibly leave soon enough.

As I lay there in bed unable to put you from my thoughts... it was already too late.

*4*

We were late. Lucy, Mrs. Lefroy and I were late to the ball two or three nights later. My memory fails me yet again as I try to remember whose ball it was and why it was being thrown. Perhaps I can not remember because I was dizzy with the idea that I was going to be surrounded by dozens of country women - each of whom were going to expect a dancing partner of me. Each and every one of them just like Lucy. If there was any fun to be had at all that night, it would have been with your brother. I found him to be quite agreeable in London and hoped that he would show me the finer things Hampshire had to offer. If there were finer things. Which I doubted.

The Lefroy ladies and I entered the ball room from the balcony above and I was just about to make my way to... I will never know where exactly I was planning on going because that was as far as my thought carried itself before I saw you below. I will admit to you now and never again that I was, at first, jealous to find you dancing with Mr. Wisley. I did not understand why I should feel this, but did not have to wonder for very long in any case. The feeling was fleeting as a moment after I felt the emotion Mr. Wisley had made the egregious error of using your foot as part of the dance floor. It was then impossible to be jealous of him. So I could only smile. You caught my eye just as I was laughing at the sight before me. My heart felt tight in my chest, but I kept smiling. For your part, you looked at me as though you hated me. And perhaps you did... but who other than you would have shown me? The confines of propriety required that you conceal feelings of dislike, but there you were. There your emotions were. I was fascinated by you, Miss Austen. You were an anomaly in a world where much of everything was indistinguishable from much of everything else.

I made my way down to the ball room, in search of you - but once I made it to where I had previously seen you, you were no longer there. Another dance had started in front of me and I knew I had only a matter of moments to make my escape, past a line of young maidens standing idle - watching me as I walked away. I did not make eye contact with a single one of them, nor did I look back once I was clear of danger. I had risked the lion's den just to speak with you. Yet another clue as to my feelings even though I was as yet unaware of them.

Quickly I found myself in search of your brother, perhaps he would know where you were. I had caught sight of him while still in peril on the ball room floor - him and your cousin, Eliza Freullide, on the opposite side of the balcony from where I had come. What an odd pair the two of them made, but how I envy them now. To have the means and position to be with the one you love. It is something so few of us have.

What I found on that balcony was not what I had expected, however - you stood with your back to me, talking to your brother and cousin. There it was, that feeling in my chest again. Nervousness? Excitement? What it was exactly, I did not know and I did not wish to examine the condition past the point of curiosity.

They tried to warn you, didn't they, Jane? Even now I can smile at that. Jane... Jane, your brother had said. You ignored him. You went on speaking; went on insulting me. Were all his friends as disagreeable as I? And just where in Ireland was I from?

Limerick, you learned, is where I was from in Ireland, and you learned it from me - me who happened to be standing behind you. You must have been surprised. You mentioned me declining to dance so you had no doubt seen me narrowly escape with my life from the sea of husbandless women - thinking me a safe distance away. You turned around to look at me, face pale. I had given you no reason to like me or speak well of me, indeed I had done the opposite - but you felt guilty anyway. I am certain of it. I was bothered by your opinion of me, but I do confess to being curious as to the emotion from which it originated. Was it is the same emotion that urged me to ask you to dance even though you had not three seconds prior made your dislike for me abundantly clear?

And how amusing it was escorting you down the steps, your eyes cast downward, diverted to the side or to the ceiling - anywhere but on me. If you had looked, you would have been unhappy to note the grin on my face. For it had been you, had it not, that had been judging my refusal to dance as, shall we say, undiplomatic. How could you have turned me down without seeming a hypocrite? Not one word was spoken on our way down and I have no way of knowing what you were thinking, but I do imagine it was something along those lines. I am sorry, but it was not in my nature to turn down an opportunity such as I found just then. A man, after all, has to make his own fun.

You did dance well - even while keeping up with me in conversation. I feigned to be forgetful of your name once again, just to tease you - but you, without missing a beat, did the same to me. I could have laughed. We spoke many words, all amounting to the equivalent of calling one another arrogant. I suspected you felt yourself above your peers (and if you did you did rightly so). Although, if I had known that this would be one of only two times I would ever dance with you, I would have kept my words to myself, my eyes on you... and I would have danced with you all night. Instead, when the music ended I walked away from you and you from me - leaving the others to clap politely at the one hundredth of one hundred identical dances they had accomplished in their lives.

And yet... we did find our way back to each other through out the night. Allow me to apologize most sincerely for any unwanted attention it may have brought you. No doubt your mother had something to say about it. Mr. Wisley and his aunt, with their eyes so permanently affixed to your person, must have noticed as well. You must have wondered why, just as I wondered why. Why should I want to be near you who disliked me? Who had not a kind word to say to me? You with your dull writings and your... irritatingly innocent eyes. I was not even sure if my opinion of you was any higher than yours of me. Why was I drawn to you so? Three... or four instances was it? Instances in which we found ourselves near to each other. Each time you had more to say about my elevated airs and I of your pious indignity. You were wonderfully antagonistic and I am sorry to say that I did enjoy the spark of anger in your eyes every time I said something you did not wish to hear. I found that I was enjoying myself for the first time since my arrival nearly a week before.

For the first time, I was glad not to be in London.

*5*

My mother had once told me that in life we must make our choices with enough courage to support our conviction and accept the consequences of those choices with a smile... whether those consequences be good or bad. For once a decision is made it can not, for all intents and purposes, be unmade. This was in response to my inquiring as to why she had married my father who was so many stations below her. Penniless as he was, she loved my father with as deep conviction as could be had, and good or bad, she accepted whatever else came.

When the opportunity arose to stay in London with my uncle, to learn the law, to aid my mother and father in their financial responsibilities, I knew it was my duty to accept. And in accepting, the weight of my family came to be fully upon my shoulders. I made this choice with conviction as my mother had taught me... but I did not know you then. I was young and did not quite yet understand my mother's true lesson.

That I would have to live with that decision and the consequences of that decision for the rest of my life. Decisions can not be undone. There was no changing the past.

So you see, it is exactly how I have said. Our lives are not our own. It was decided long before we met that we could not be together, and through decisions that had nothing to do with us. I often wonder what I would have done had I ever had the opportunity to go back and do things differently - exactly what my mother had warned me about. A man could drive himself mad wondering what might have been, but I have wondered and do still wonder. I know, had it been you, if you were me - you would have changed nothing. You would have helped your family without question or protest knowing full well we would never be together. You are a better person than I...

For I do not know for certain that I could do the same.

*6*

When the ball was over and I was again back in my room and in bed, I amused myself with the recent memory of Lucy pouting jealously in the carriage ride back home. She had begun to question me about my interest in you, but her mother quickly cut her off, as seemed to be her way. Poor, dear, annoying little Lucy. Too young to be considered ridiculous in her behavior, but old enough to suffer the pain of unrequited infatuation. I did care for her though, I realized. Being one of eleven surviving children, I found that I had almost missed being incessantly bothered by a younger relation...

But I did not want to think about my siblings.

I closed my eyes, no longer amused. This place, this house, these people - they all served as reminders of what it was exactly that depended on me. I was here even now to learn to meaning of... what had my uncle said? Prudence. To learn prudence. And for what? To make myself worthy enough to inherit what was his. For my family. I did all this for my family. And, for all the love I had for them, I admit to you - shamefully - that I hated them as well. Forever trying to crawl out from behind the shadow of poverty, forever defending my mother's actions, and always, always, fighting to keep food on the plates of my brothers and sisters.

So no, I did not wish to think of these things just then. I never wanted to think of them, truth be told. I preferred to perform my duty quietly and go on with my life as though it were not a very large portion of my life. And so, I tried to push these thoughts to the very back of my consciousness - as far back as I could manage, which was where they usually stayed. It was, however, proving to be particularly difficult in this instance. Perhaps because I was becoming increasingly aware I was on the threshold of disaster in regards to my uncle and the money he afforded me. The majority of the time I could ignore the fact that my family and I relied completely on his rather conditional benefaction - but the situation I was in did lend itself most incontrovertibly to a very deep understanding that my uncle could, and indeed would, strip me of everything if I displeased him.

I realized quite plainly that I had been wrong about my uncle's lesson to me when I had thought it over some nights before. It was not, as I had previously mused, that I must learn how to get away with being myself...

It was that I must learn to be someone else.

I let out a sound of exasperation and threw my legs over the side of the bed. I remember running my hands through my hair, resting my head in my palms - knowing I would not sleep well that night.

So I stood up, lit a candle... and made my way quietly to the library.

It should not be a great mystery which book I searched for to take from the shelves.

*7*

By the time I had awaken the next morning I had already suffered a few minor embarrassments during my as yet short stay in Hampshire. Shooting my uncle's gun off in to the walls of his cellar, for instance. Falling backward on the seat of my very expensive pants as I called out to you in the woods, for another. These types of things, given my nature, were easily brushed aside the moment after they had occurred - the embarrassment fading away almost as swiftly as it had come. Usually the feeling was replaced by another emotion all together such as amusement or irritation. As I woke up in my night clothes on the arm chair in my uncle's library, my uncle and aunt staring at me with concern... I knew this would not be one of those instances.

After a brief moment of confusion, I sat up abruptly.

"Uncle." I said quickly - nodding my head in something of a bow to my aunt.

"If you you found your room to be other than accommodating in some way, surely something else could have been done about it." My uncle responded.

"Uncle, I--"

"Is Tom in here?" I heard Lucy's voice come from the doorway. I closed my eyes briefly, biting down on my jaw. The girl seemed to be in constant search of me - why should this moment be any different?

"Lucy--" Her mother started to warn her, but it was too late. There she stood in front of me, eyes wide - grin wider.

"Tom?"

I pulled my robe tighter around me.

"Come, Lucy." Her mother said, pulling her away.

"But I--"

Their voices trailed away and I heard the library door close behind them. My uncle took a deep breath and sat down near me.

"How are you enjoying your stay here, Tom?"

"Well enough, sir." I responded, having nothing more to say on the subject just then.

"Glad to hear it." He said, then a pause. "I know that your coming here was not exactly your idea and that adjusting to country life when you are clearly quite accustomed to city living, must be quite difficult. Having said that, Tom, I really must insist that you put in the effort."

"Yes, uncle." I said, somehow knowing this had to do with more than just the discovery of me asleep in an arm chair. Perhaps I had been acting just a bit... aloof. For the previous three years I had divided my time between being quietly absorbed in study (yes, Jane, I did study) and things of a more diverting nature. It was, none of it, spent cultivating personal relationships or learning to be interested in the lives of others. I was respected in London, sought out after. The nephew of a successful and affluent judge. Three years of that and now Hampshire - it was difficult readjusting my behavior.

"We are very happy to have you..." he continued. "But I am sure that a young man such as yourself could easily find better ways to direct your restless energy than roaming around aimlessly through the night."

I nodded.

"Of course."

"You are, after all, only here for the summer. Why not make the best out of it?"

I nodded.

"Yes, of course, uncle." Was really all I could say. He took a deep breath and nodded as well. He stood up.

"Will you go calling this morning?" He asked, seemingly from nowhere. I must have looked confused.

"I had not thought of doing so..."

"Well, I am uncertain of the customs of Ireland or, indeed, even of London... but here, when a young man dances with a young woman at a ball it is considered polite to call on her the next day."

It may well have been a custom in both London and Ireland, but I did not know - and for certain it was one custom I had never observed. It seemed to be just a bit ridiculous when a man could possibly dance with many several women at a ball. Should he have to call on all of them the next day? I voiced this question to my uncle who merely said;

"Perhaps it is lucky for you that only danced with one young woman, then." He smiled, and I got the distinct feeling that he was teasing me a bit.

"Indeed." I responded dryly. My uncle bowed and left me alone once again in the library. I sunk back in the chair and ran my hand over my face...

I supposed I was obliged to pay you a visit.

*8*

"Mr. Tom and Mr. George Lefroy for you, Miss." I heard the maid speak to someone in the parlor. I had brought George as something of a chaperone so no one could get the wrong idea from my calling on you. I was not to be teased over this.

"Mr. Lefroy?" It was you, and you seemed none too happy. I smiled to myself for I had assumed your reaction would be something to that effect. The maid looked to George and I and gestured for us to enter the parlor. There you were, sitting daintily with your hands folded neatly in your lap. The maid curtseyed and was gone. George and I bowed.

"Miss Austen." I said. George addressed you as well.

"George." You said with a smile, and then looked to me with a bit less of a smile. "Mr. Lefroy. Please, sit down." You offered, feigning courtesy when I knew you hated me for being there.

"I am told paying you call would be only polite as you were so kind to favor me with a dance yesterday evening."

"Well, I must admit I would not have expected you to follow such--"

"Provincial rules of conduct?" I finished for you. You smiled a smile that was almost more of a grimace. This was turning out to be quite an amusing opportunity... for I knew you had many things to say to me that George's presence would prevent you from. I, on the other hand, could goad you as I wished. You turned to George.

"George, so kind of you to accompany Mr. Lefroy here today. How are things at Ashe?"

"Quite fine, Miss Austen. Thank you for inquiring."

Silence. I could have laughed.

"Tell me," I started finally. "How is your novel coming? Have you yet... _accomplished_ what you meant to?" The irritation on your face was plain.

"I have accomplished nothing." You responded, then looked down for a moment of subtle frustration. That had not been what you meant at all, but it was what you said. "What I mean is, it is not done - but it is coming along rather well."

"Oh, I am very happy to hear it. There are so few successful feminine writers, but who knows? We could be sitting here now with the next Mrs. Ann Radcliffe."

"Mrs. Ann Radcliffe?" You asked, seeming surprised. "You have read _The Mysteries of Udolpho_?"

I nodded.

"Mmm." I said. "Prose are a bit weak in my opinion, but that is to be expected, of course. She could only write of that which she is immediately familiar - so we get much of nature and of the heroine Emily St. Aubert fainting. It does get to be a bit redundant. f?" How you did not narrow your eyes at me, I shall never know. You only looked at me, blank faced - doing quite a job at concealing the anger I know you must have been feeling. "Which is not to say that you are to follow in her footsteps. You might well be a surprise."

"Forgive me for saying so, Mr. Lefroy, but could it be possible that you could not understand the deeper meaning of the book?" You asked, and I said nothing. "It was sentimental and gothic. The heroine endured travesty after travesty and still remained a good person in the end. I can see how someone of limited literary knowledge may have scarcely understood the point... which is not to suggest you are such a person."

I did not have to think of anything to say in response to you, for your brother walked in just at that moment.

"Lefroy!" He said. "I thought it was you." I stood and shook his hand.

"Austen." I said.

"What brings you here? Don't tell me you've come to visit my sister? That would be down right polite of you."

"Oh, yes." You interrupted, standing as well. "Mr. Lefroy is very kind and polite, indeed, to grace us with his presence."

"Indeed." You rolled your eyes and looked away from us. "Will you be joining us at picnic tomorrow? Perhaps join in at the cricket match?"

"Henry..." You said. "I am sure a man of such high class metropolitan upbringing would find our country picnics very dull."

"Oh, no." I said. "You are mistaken. Just this morning my uncle was suggesting that I immerse myself more in country life. I would be delighted to come." I met your eyes. "I am actually quite good at cricket."

*9*

And, as it turns out, so were you.

It was a beautiful day... honestly the kind of day one could not expect to see in London. Perhaps in Limerick, when it stopped raining long enough - but not London. Not in a metropolis where one could not hope for a patch of green grass outside of a park, much less an open field on which games such as cricket could be played. There were other diversions to be had in the city, amusements of a somewhat questionable variety... but nothing such as this. Not for a person such as me.

I confess I never would have expected to see you walking toward me with a bat in hand... but, yes, you did turn out to be quite good. Something I might have guessed when you took up Mr. Wisley's turn upon his refusal to take it up himself. I thought, perhaps, you believed you had something to prove to me - that a woman could do anything that a man could and just as well. I was intrigued, but not impressed, by your forwardness. By the way you seemed not even to notice the look of stunned propriety on your mother's face and the way all the other ladies in attendance gasped. Why must we all drop our jaws and divert our eyes when a lady chooses to do something other than sit daintily under a parasol and fan at herself? Is that not irony?

If it ever seemed to you, to anyone for that matter, that I believed women to be below me or incapable in any way, it was not so. It was my opinion that a woman could have and do whatever she wanted the same as a man could. It seemed to me, though, that women generally - while perhaps wanting to be considered as equal to men - remained comfortable in their confinement. Freedom belonged to everyone and was there for the taking... but freedom is not always an easy thing to have. As in all things, the bad comes right along with the good. You can not choose to play a man's game while still hiding safely behind the rules and obligations that keep you happy and comfortable and expect to be considered an equal. To anyone. You yourself once had said that you did not devise the scruples by which you lived, but were obliged to obey them. You playing against me in the cricket match seemed to me to be an exercise in hypocrisy. I would give you your credit where your credit was due, but in this instance there was none.

This was when I became partially aware of my feelings for you.

You wanted to be something other than what your surroundings had made you. Jane, you were lovely and brilliant already, but you wanted something more. I could see it in you. The potential. You wanted to be different and that _made _you different. If you could me mine for only a moment, I would let you flourish. I wanted to corrupt you without ruining you. I wanted to open you up and let you spill out on to the world. To be whatever it was that you were trying to be. But you would most likely never let me, and I would most likely never try.

So as I sat for a moment on the ground after you had just won your team the match, I found myself feeling a bit annoyed. Annoyed because I expected so much more from you than I ever could have hoped to receive. You were better than your circumstances, and yet... and yet. I did not know.

Also, you did just beat me at cricket.

I let my irritation fade away and stood up, mentioning that it was obvious you had played the game before, allowing you to have your satisfaction. A few moments later Henry and I were racing down the hill to a bit of river for a swim. You and Eliza followed us - running almost as fast as we. Of this I was very aware. I was undressed completely by the time you made it down to us. I could feel your embarrassed eyes upon me... and then I knew you were gone. If you really wanted to prove to me that you could be my equal in all things, you would have jumped in that river with me. I knew you would not, but hoped that you would. To experience something for yourself. Something other than obligations or minor acts of dissent. A writer could not write of what they did not know - so how could you ever hope to be a writer when you knew nothing? Your world was a very small place.

*10*

"I've warned my sister about you." Henry said to me as we prepared to make our way back up the hill. I laughed as I pulled a boot on.

"Only you?" I asked. "And only your sister? I am disappointed. I had hoped that the whole of the female population of Hampshire would have been warned about me by now." I paused. "Twice." Another pause. "By everyone."

Henry smiled and shook his head.

"I am afraid that is mostly likely not far away from the truth."

"Ah, then I've succeeded."

I clapped Henry on the shoulder with a laugh and, being fully dressed, we began back up the hill to where everyone awaited our return.

"She is my sister, Tom." Henry warned, but in a friendly enough way.

"Yes, I know." I sighed.

"I just do not wish her heart to become one of the many in your collection."

"Do not worry, Austen. My intentions toward your sister should be of little concern to your or anyone."

"And yet, why do I still worry?"

I stopped and faced him. He stopped as well.

"Why, indeed?" I asked. "Believe me, even if your sister did come off of that pedestal she's placed herself on long enough to decide I am not the horrible creature she imagines me to be, she is not exactly the type of company I am known to keep. Furthermore, it does not matter because I am gone by summer's end..." I shrugged slightly.

"Yes, and I have had the opportunity to see for myself that that happens to be more than enough time for you." He responded. I let out a noise of irritation as I rolled my eyes - about to say something, but he continued to speak. "As for what she thinks of you, no one can speak better of her feelings than her herself - but I know her, and I can assure you her behavior does speak contrary to her words."

"And I seldom have the opportunity to observe either so allow me to assure--"

"Lefroy--"

Whatever he was going to say, I do not know for I cut him off quite a bit more sharply than I meant to

"_Allow_ me to assure you..." I trailed off for a moment, and took a deep breath. Your brother only looked at me with a concerned confusion. He had not meant to upset me, I know. I was not even sure of why he had. I regained my briefly lost composure and began to speak again. "Forgive me."

"Of course." He said. I let out a breath of air with an amiable smile and we continued on our way. "You must understand, it is just because I care for Jane that I feel I must to say these things to you."

"I am fully aware that I have a reputation." I started. "But you forget that I am here at my uncle's insistence to learn how to behave as an upright man of the law. I am doing my best to keep out of trouble."

"Yes, and how are finding it?"

"Oh, quite effortless." I said with a serious frown. "While I'm asleep anyway. I have yet to figure out how to get on while I'm awake."

Henry laughed shortly.

"If your uncle only knew you."

I winced.

"Let us hope it never comes to that."

*11*

I searched for you when we returned to the picnic, if for no other reason to apologize for having undressed so abruptly in front of you. There had been many things running through my thoughts at the time, and none of them had been your or Eliza's reputation. Your brother may not have realized you two had been following us, but as I said before, I had been aware.

And also, my dear... my dear sweet Jane... I desired to see the flush that would no doubt cover your cheeks as I broached the subject. Would you deny having seen me? Would you think me impudent for bringing it up? I tried not to think such things, for such things led to a certain behavior that always seemed to get me in to the kind of trouble that I had just been speaking to your brother about. I found that I could not help myself. You see, your brother had enlightened me to a fact of which I had been previously ignorant.

He believed your opinion to be higher of me than you would have had me believe.

But you were no longer there to apologize to. We were informed that you, Eliza and your mother had taken your leave whilst Henry and I were still at the river. Though it was a bit disappointing, I could not keep myself from smiling. You had left to avoid me, to avoid having to acknowledge what had occurred. I did not doubt it at all.

And if my thoughts turned to you once again as I lay in bed that night, I wondered... would you be thinking of me as well?

*****


	2. Chapter 2

**There You Were**

**Part I: Hampshire**

**Chapter II**

*1*

It was several days before we spoke again. I did see you, once, walking alone in the woods. When I had begged leave of my uncle and aunt that afternoon to go for a walk, I confess to having hoped for exactly that. Something told me that your previous unaccompanied amble had not been a solitary occurrence and that there was a possibility that I might encounter you again. I was walking for nearly an hour before I saw you. I had been stopped just off the path, by a pebble in my shoe. I had just slipped it back on when I looked up and was obliged to smile...

For there you were.

Your back was to me as you walked away, so you must have walked right past me without either of us noticing. I made move to approach you, but before I could I became aware that you were humming softly to yourself. A familiar tune that I recognized from... from where? I knew it, I was sure. I closed my eyes for a moment as I tried to remember. So familiar, and not just the notes. Soft. Feminine. Warm.

I opened my eyes.

Why were you humming a tune from Ireland, Jane? A favorite of my youngest sister, Anne, I was a bit surprised that I had not known it right away - even if it had been years since I had been home to Limerick. My mother sometimes murmured the melody to her when she was having trouble sleeping. From where had you picked it up? I watched you recede in the distance, feeling a distinct and not all together pleasant tightening of my chest.

I turned slowly in the opposite direction of where ever it was that you were headed, and I walked away.

*2*

I sat comfortably once again in my uncle's arm chair in the library, feeling that the late morning was a much more appropriate time for reading than the late night. While I had pulled your book from the shelves many nights previous I had not had a chance to look through it until this day. Relatively well written, the book lacked charm. It was boring and grey much the same as the land it favoured, but it was easy to see why you would enjoy it. It was also easy to see why I had fallen dead asleep while trying to read it. Pretty words delicately crafted to dull perfection and pieced together to create mind-numbing prose. It might well have been the book you would have written of Selbourne Wood had you ever had the inclination. Talent, if you'll excuse the contradiction, is not always equal to skill.

Ah, but I did come to an interesting scene in the book which you would never have written. A description of the mating habits of a particular bird... Awkward in it's displacement, I had to chuckle when I read over it. I imagined you reading the same passage, blushing over Mr. Wyatt's diction. If you could not find sanctuary even in your tedious books, where could you turn?

A barely discernible creak from the shelves above me alerted me to someone's presence. I looked up and stood. Lucy, no doubt, spying on me again. There was another creak, louder this time, and I made my way around the book shelf in time to witness your, and to my pleasure not Lucy's, attempt at a quiet retreat. It occurred to me briefly to let you go, but seeing the expression on your face when you'd realized you had been caught was so much more important. So it was only a step, maybe two, I had allowed you to gain before I said your name.

Miss Austen.

You spun to face me, feigned delight and surprise at my "sudden" appearance when you and I both knew you had already been aware that I was in the room. Ah, Mr. Lefroy... as though you had been searching for me. As though we were friends. I could not, for many reasons I suppose, hold back a smile as I bowed to you. It must have been hard to see me again after having seen me so compromised at the river. You curtseyed in return and before I was able to speak another word, you commented upon, perhaps, the first safe thing you could. The book in my hand.

Your book.

I could detect a bit of astonishment in your demeanor for an instant. Oh, you had said. Quite probably wondering, as I did, how I had managed to remember the book and why I had elected to read it. The astonishment disappeared, naturally, when you asked and I told you what I thought of it. Disturbing? I give you credit for not rolling your eyes at me as you so obviously wanted to, but yes... disturbing. I chose the word to tease you, of course, and I almost - almost - left it at that. But how could I?

You listened attentively, nervously I would say, as I read the interesting passage I had found aloud to you. You stood before me fidgeting with your fingers, I could see from out of my periphery vision as I approached you slowly. I drew the words out protractedly, letting you cling to them. Allowing you to understand what it was I was reading about. I stopped, though, just as I got to the sentence that would leave no room for confusion. I read it to myself once again. It wasn't appropriate, but you bade me continue. I looked up at you from the book, meeting your eyes. You wanted to hear but perhaps you did not know what was coming. Perhaps you did. I like to think you did.

I looked down at the book and finished the last sentence, meeting your eyes once again as the word ecstasy left my mouth. I wanted to look at you as I said it. I could not have hoped for a better, nor could I have enjoyed more another, reaction from you. You stared in to my eyes saying nothing, breathing just a bit harder than moments before. What must you have been thinking? I believe I would have given most anything to know your thoughts just then. Drawing the moment out a little longer, I inquired as to the frequency of such occurrences in Hampshire - leaving you to infer as to my full meaning.

You sputtered unintelligibly and I had to laugh.

You were ignorant to the ways of the world; my world. My usage of "Ignorance" as a means by which to describe your predicament seemed to break my temporary hold over you. I followed you as you walked away from me, busying yourself with a newly urgent desire to look over the shelves of books. I tried to advise you on your writing, speaking to you the thoughts I had mused over the day of the cricket match. You were in need of experience and until that experience was had you could expect your writing to remain beautiful, but hollow.

What qualified me to offer this advice? You wanted to know. What did you expect me to say? My reputation had preceded me many times with regard to you, so there was nothing I could tell you that you did not already know. Specifics, perhaps, were undisclosed to you as propriety commanded... but a scandalous reputation speaks volumes about a person. You knew I was no virgin. You knew I was no great bastion of morality. All I could say in response to you was, essentially, that I knew more of the world. A great deal more, you commented with a forced laugh. Were you actually trying to offend me? I did get the feeling that an emotion quite near to jealousy had formed those words in your mouth.

I thought back to my conversation with your brother. You did like me, of this I was almost certain... and even if I did not exactly know what it was I felt for you, I knew my interest in your exceeded the limits of aid and advise.

I did not agree aloud that I knew a great deal more than you, but did say that I knew enough. Enough to know that your horizons did need to be... I paused before I finished the statement. A moment to think of a word that was suggestive enough by nature, but perfectly innocuous.

Widened.

The word was so suited to the message I meant to convey, I could not help but smile as I turned from you and went to the other side of the book shelf. It was my turn to recommend a bit of reading to you and when you were standing rather suddenly in front of me again, I had it ready for you. What ever words of reprove you had for me were lost on your tongue as your face came so very near to mine.

I was able to tell you to read it explaining that it would help you understand what I meant. I was even able to bow before I walked away from you. That was all I could manage for, you see, you were not the only one effected by our close proximity. Had I stayed a moment longer, my lips would have found their way to yours and I might have kissed you until one of us could no longer breathe.

Since I was out of the library and away from you before I could examine the desire more closely, I decided it had been only a temporary lapse in judgment. It had been weeks since I had last kissed anyone and that, for me, was quite a long time. I had wanted you because you had been standing in front of me.

Nothing more.

*3*

I stared out at the garden from my window - watching the day fade away to darkness. It had been a week, perhaps longer, since I had seen or spoken to you. My days had been filled with listening to Lucy practice her singing and one or two dinner parties. I had escorted the Lefroy ladies to the market on a Tuesday and then on a walk on a Friday - both in hopes of spotting you. I was curious as to how you were finding Mr. Fielding's history as opposed to Mr. Wyatt's.

Also, for some reason, I missed your company.

Whenever I was not preoccupied with another task, which was often, I thought of you. Your wide brown eyes (still irritatingly innocent) laughing at me or, more often, chiding me. Your perpetually flushed cheeks. Your... mouth. Your lips, so full and red - the way they moved as you spoke. The topics you spoke of. How was it that there was a book written about wretched Selbourne Wood when there was none of you - lovelier and drastically more interesting? How was it that there were no pieces of music meant to sing your praise or works of art meant to capture your beauty?

I put my hand over my face at this thought and rubbed my eyes. These things were very nice to think of someone whom I found annoying, pretentious and ignorant.

Very nice things, indeed.

There was a knock at my door. I furrowed my forehead and looked toward it.

"Come in."

The door opened and in walked a servant with a small silver platter - and on the platter was a letter.

"A letter for you, sir." The woman said with a curtsey. I stood and walked over to her, nodding my head at her briefly as I took the letter - excusing her from my presence. She curtseyed again and was gone. For a moment I had hoped it was from you, but pushed the hope aside immediately. Breaking the wax seal and opening the letter I could recognize right away the handwriting of my uncle.

I sighed, raising my eyes toward the ceiling, and then walked back over to my window where I sat down again. I held the letter in my hand for a minute or two without reading it, knowing instinctually what it said. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath - opening my eyes again I turned my attention toward the words before me.

_Thomas,_

_ I do hope that your time in the country has served you well and that this letter_

_ finds you a changed man. I am arranging your transport back to London for _

_ an estimated arrival date of the 6th of July._

_ Judge Langlois_

Quite short and quite to the point... my lesson was over, and I was to return back to London within four days time.

I refolded the letter, feelings of confusion overwhelming me. This was what I wanted - what I had been wanting since the moment I stepped foot here. I was returning to London and back to my life. Back to what I knew. I should have felt ecstatic and overjoyed... But my confusion stemmed from the fact that, for all I wished to, I did not feel these things at all. Instead all I felt was a dull ache in the middle of my chest and a vague sense of... loss.

But what, I asked myself, was I losing?

*4*

I had lost my ability to believe in God at a young age - long holding the belief that God was a luxury of the rich... as so many things seemed to be. I mostly kept this opinion to myself, though on rare occasions would make it known. Once, for instance, I had been sitting next to my mother and siblings at a Sunday morning service and it had suddenly come upon me to stand up and leave. As this was a small chapel and the reverend happened to be in the middle of his homily at the same time, my rather unexpected exodus had escaped the notice of few if any.

Suffice it to say I did receive a rather vigorous reprimand for my behavior.

After that I attended service every Sunday with my family until 1793 when I went to stay with my uncle in London. By the time of our meeting, Jane, I had not been near a church for three years.

*5*

I sat quietly on the last pew in the small chapel, listening to your father speak. Well, I could hear him speak but I do not know how much I was listening. I was distracted by the back of your neck, which was all I could see of you from my vantage point. It was enough... just to know you were there. Enough to make me happy.

Enough to tear me apart.

If I stopped long enough to think about why I was there, I would have thought it strange. I had come to see you. Not to speak with you. Not to interact with you in any way. Only to see you. Whatever it was between us was soon to be at an end and it was, for some reason beyond me, important that I take in the sight of you as much as I could. I wanted to remember you. Beautiful, horrible, wonderful, irritating, lovely, tempestuous, passionate... Jane. My Jane. My... friend Jane.

In just three days time, I would see you once more and then never again.

When the sermon was done and the service over, I did not wait to be excused before leaving. I did not wish to be obliged to converse with anyone just then and so I walked away from the church to the nearby brook. I had grown up near the Shannon River in Ireland had not noticed until my time in Hampshire how serene the sound of water really was. There was nothing like this in London. No trees or streams. Just people and reputations. I had had three years to make myself believe that was the life for me, and it took less than two months for me to realize it was not. That perhaps it had never been.

I stared over the river thinking to myself that this land did have a way of becoming familiar. Indeed, a very peculiar way of feeling like home. I had never expected to become attached to anything here, and was quite dismayed to find that there were very few things to which I had not. I took a deep breath and squinted my eyes against the early morning sun. It was difficult to think that my time here was coming to an end. I had not wanted to come to the country, had wanted it even less when I arrived... but now. Now things were different, and at that moment I made the decision not to tell you I was leaving. If you did not know, then I could imagine as though it were not so. You could help me convince myself for a short while.

Then I heard your voice. You had read the book I had recommended, but what was infinitely more important was that you had sought me out to tell me. It was the first time you had done so. I smiled a small smile to myself and turned around to face you. A bow and an address from me and just a reiteration that you had read my book and subsequently disapproved of it from you. Of course you disapproved, I had not expected you to like it. I must say you surprised me by reading past the first pages. I found that you surprised me quite often.

The conversation over the book lasted for some minutes, but somehow Lucy had found us just as we were speaking of the trouble that my hero had gotten himself in to. She seemed suspicious as she asked us to what sort of trouble we refereed. I shall never forget the mischievous smile on your face as you answered her question but seemed to direct the answer at me. I can remember your face better than the words you spoke. All kinds of trouble, all sorts of trouble. Something to that effect. The words were for her. The smile was for me. Another first. It was enough to make me forget, for a moment, the rather unpleasant reality that faced me.

You walked away, presumably in search of your brother as you ended up in front of him and Eliza, and I followed.

"Henry." I bowed, then to Eliza. "Madame Freullide."

"What do you say, Henry," You started. "Shall we show our friend Mr. Lefroy what he has been missing of the country?"

I looked at Henry with a look of puzzled question. He looked at me, then back to you and cleared his throat.

"I don't know, Jane. Mr. Lefroy has seen a great deal." He paused, looking at me again. "Is that not what you told me our last night in London, Tom?"

I laughed, remembering as he listed things we could have done that night, that I had seen and done all of them at least once. Some of them quite disreputable. His brotherly instinct to protect you from me seemed very easily provoked. I knew he liked me well enough, but that did not mean he approved of me.

"Yes, but that was London." I responded. "I have seen very few things of interest in the country." I meant something different for you than I meant for your brother. While it was true that I had seen very few interesting things in the country it was also true that I had seen very few.._. interesting_ things in the country. I am certain he understood.

"The place I have in mind is nearly half a day's walk from here." You said. I smiled.

"Well then it is lucky that we shall not have to walk."

"Tell me, Mr. Lefroy... have you ever been to Laverton?"

"Laverton?" I asked.

"The Laverton fair?" Henry asked you, sounding as though his interest had been piqued. You looked at him and nodded. Henry turned to me with a grin.

"Well, this should be fun. Plenty of trouble to watch you try to stay out of there."

Eliza laughed as she and Henry walked away. You began to follow but I stopped you by placing my hand gently over your arm, bringing you to a halt. You turned to me and the look in your eyes as well as the soft contact caused my heart to beat more rapidly - even you seemed taken aback by my forwardness. I had done it because I was comfortable with you, forgetting that it was against many rules of conduct and propriety. I was not your husband or fiancé, I had not known you since infancy - nor were we of any relation. I had no place to take such a liberty. I swallowed and took my hand away from you.

"I... I'm sorry." I said.

"It's all right." You said, but there was something in your voice that said otherwise. "Was there something you wanted?"

I nodded, my eyes slowly trying to find their way back to yours.

"Where exactly is it that we are going?"

You shrugged just slightly.

"It's a secret, Mr. Lefroy." You said. Were you flirting with me, Jane? I met your eyes with curiosity.

"A secret?"

"Yes, you've heard of those. A circumstance in which I know something that you do not know."

"Is that not the definition of irony?" I asked with a laugh. You were about to say something - perhaps lecture me on my misuse of literary terms - when Lucy again was upon us.

"Can I come, Jane?" She asked. "Mother will allow it if Tom escorts me."

You looked to me.

"Tom?" You asked. You said my name, my forename. It came from your mouth so casually, I was not even sure that you had noticed. But I noticed.

"Er, yes." I looked down at Lucy. "I would honored to escort such a beautiful young lady to..." I looked at you, hoping for a hint as to what this Laverton fair was.

"It's a secret." You said to Lucy. She smiled excitedly.

"I love secrets."

The two of you walked away arm in arm and I stood where I was for just a moment. Perhaps good things could come from attending church after all.

*6*

That night at the fair, to this day, Jane, to this very moment, was the most fun I have ever had in my life. Not because of the fire breathers or the men on stilts or the alcohol or the women. I had seen all these things before - many times before. Many times since. The reason I shall never forget that night is, well, that should be apparent. Even though I escorted Lucy and she clung to me most ardently for the majority of the time we spent at the fair, it was you I was there with. Yet another first for the day; the first time we ever spent any real time together. We had seen each other in passing, at parties, at balls - chance encounters every so often. But this, this was different. You and I outside the confines of Steventon or Ashe and there together of our own choosing. I do not pretend not to have been surprised by your taking me to such a gathering of ostentacious display, but it only made you more interesting.

You had asked me... something. Was there fun enough there for me? Entertainment? Trouble? I am not quite sure which, but since there was an excess of all three, I said yes. Yes there was, and freedom - the kind that almost always only a man could enjoy. Every way you looked there was some one doing something they wanted just because they wanted to do it. Men making salacious spectacles of themselves, surrounded by women whom they must have paid for. Now that, I had also seen many times before. I asked you if you envied this freedom of men, perhaps because I did. While I could make a show of being free and doing as I pleased, I was still very much shackled to others' dependancies and expectations. As, I suppose, were you.

"What will your mother say when you arrive back home?" I asked jokingly as we wove our way through out the crowds.

"Oh, she will not say anything to me, I suspect." You answered. "She will speak of her disapproval to my father as she invariably seems to do, and then he will speak to me."

"About?"

You did not answer right away, which made me wonder if it was not me that he would be speaking to you about.

"My prospects, I suppose."

"You mean Wisley."

You laughed a sound of annoyance.

"Does everyone know of his attentions toward me?" You asked. "I would sooner marry the Biggwither boy before attaching myself to such a spiritless man as Mr. Wisley."

"Such words of disdain, Miss Austen. What has he done to earn them?"

You took a deep breath, seeming to regret speaking so harshly of a man who had not, as far as I knew, done anything ill against you.

"For all I know of him, he is a kind and honorable man - but he thinks that his wealth will buy him anything he pleases, and that has made him... indolent. He could have all the money in the world and could still not hope to buy me with it."

"And what might a man hope to buy you with?" I asked, not knowing why I did so. You looked at me and seemed to have no words of response, I was not sure if I had offended you. I blinked and looked away. "I apologize, I did not mean to--"

"No, I..." You shook your head and seemed to search for an answer. "Honestly, I hope never to be bought - or won. That would imply an ownership of some sort, would it not?"

I smiled a small smile that you may not have even noticed.

"I have always imagined marriage as something more of a partnership." You continued. "My mother and father married for love and that is what I intend to do." You paused. "If I marry at all."

I laughed.

"You would choose to be an old maid?"

"There are worse fates." You answered.

"Well, I suppose opinion would differ in regard to that, depending on who you are speaking with."

You looked at me, growing annoyed I could see.

"Yes? And what is yours?"

I looked at you, the smile fading from my face.

"I have no opinion." I answered gravely, having no desire to delve further in to the subject. The truth was that I had very strong opinions on the matter, but I was not ready nor was I willing to share them with you. My parents had also married for love and so I could see the merit in it, but I could also see the trouble. You had not experienced poverty to the extent which I had - and poverty, Jane, is among one of the worst fates imaginable. Indeed, when there are hungry mouths and greedy land lords depending on you, I can think of no worse. I was not sure if whether that meant I agreed with you or disagreed with you.

"You?" You scoffed. "You who have an opinion of everything have no opinion?"

I pursed my mouth in thought and then stopped, you stopped as well.

"My opinion, Miss Austen, is that you there will be people your whole life through that will be ready to look down at you for not marrying the right man, for not marrying at all, for not having the right name, for not-- you see what I'm getting at?"

"Yes, but why should others dictate how we live?"

"They should not, though it is very difficult to live without approval, for living without approval almost always portends living without means to support yourself."

You said nothing.

"Of course, you could always run away with me." I said, teasing you as I offered you my arm. You took it with a hesitant smile and we continued to walk. "You would have not to worry about such things as approval or marriage, because you would have none of them..."

"But, oh - the literary conversations we would have!" You laughed.

"There would much 'having', Miss Austen, but I do hope that not all of it would be conversation."

You turned your head from me to hide the embarrassment my words had just caused you, but I knew you were amused... and I was glad of it. I can not say for how long we walked together observing the show around us, conversing - laughing even, I only know that I had never enjoyed myself more.

Some time later we found ourselves amongst a crowd of people surrounding a boxing match - if it could have been called that. It is difficult to consider it a match when one opponent is so obviously ahead of the other in terms of skill and experience. I was irritated immediately by the fool who had decided to fight when it was apparent that he did not know how. The professional, though, managed to secure a bit more than my irritation after he offered us a glimpse of the worst form imaginable. A real man would never hit his opponent off guard.

I began taking my gloves and coat off without thought, ignoring your concerned questioning. Goliath was unyielding and David was going to get himself killed if someone did not stop this. I jumped in to take his place, quite confident in my own abilities. It was going quite well at first - I even supposed that I was going to win your brother a good sum of money. He'd seen me do this before and knew I could beat the man and so gambling on me was not a risk. All was going well at first, I missed a jab and was able to duck and get in my own hit right away...

But then, there was dear Lucy, was there not? A person can always count on something he did not count on. She called my name from within the crowd and I had to look. I was responsible for her. It turned out that she was fine, just excited to see me as always. With the slight turn of my head went my consciousness and, I imagine, a great deal of your brother's money.

I awoke, I assume, moments later... to you. You called my name, caressed my face - tried to wake me with such urgency. I had been touched by women, nameless and faceless. I had been kissed, caressed... stroked. But never before had I felt what it was to be loved by a woman. To have her gentle and urgent brushes come from a place other than lust. To have that woman care for me. Yet there you were with no obligation to me, holding my face and calling my name. Caring for me, fearing for me.

I smiled even through the metallic taste of blood in my mouth.

You asked me why I had done what I had done and I lied to you. I muttered some nonsense about not wanting my boxing lessons to go to waste. I could not bring myself to share with you my true reasons... that I could not bare to see a fool taken advantage of. I was unwilling to show that aspect of my nature. To anyone. This was not the type of place and nor did I live the type of life which would allow for such habits of selflessness. Indeed, the he only way to survive was to hide your true emotions and reasoning from the world which would tear them away from you if given the chance. I could never allow anyone to ever really know me.

But it was too late for that, for, somehow, you already did know me. My sense of justice, you had called it was what you believed had spurred me on and in to the fight. You saw right through my lies. You saw right through me. How was it, then, that you did not know I loved you so deeply?

Perhaps it was because it was not until that moment that I knew it myself, though I tried to deny the feeling. I laughed shortly, still trying to keep myself from you... for even if it had been my sense of justice it had also been a lack of judgment (which seemed common of me in your presence). I should have let the man get beat. I had been taught to do just that. Justice plays no part in the law and therefore neither in my life or in this world. You looked almost hurt when you asked me if I truly believed that. I know you believed exactly the opposite or at least wished to believe the opposite. You would never have accepted it the way I did... but I was compelled to accept it. There was no purpose in idealism. I wished to tell you that, no, I did not. But believe it I did. I had to.

You stared in to my eyes with such pain; as though you felt pity for me. I stared back at you for a brief few moments, the constriction in my chest becoming unbearable. I did love you. There was no denying or undoing it. I loved you more than I ever would have believed myself capable of loving anyone. I suddenly wanted to taste your lips, feel your breath. I wanted to make love to you there, right there in the midst of all those people. To make you mine again and again - damn propriety. Damn everything.

I loved you with my whole heart and soul... and the pain was nearly all I could take. For I would never make love to you. I would never kiss you. You would never be mine. You would never even know what it was I felt for you. I was leaving and that would be the end of it.

I begged your leave, unable to stay a moment longer in your presence.

Walking quickly away from you and out of sight, I wiped the blood from my mouth and labored to retrieve my senses. I loved you. I loved you. It kept repeating itself in my mind. I loved you. How long had this been so? I wondered - thought back to our first meeting. To our second. To that day by the river. To the library. Every moment I had spent with you. You who were so different from me, from everyone. You who insulted me before you knew me. You who caressed my bloodied face. You, Jane. You.

It all seemed so obvious now. I had searched for you at the ball, had asked you to be my first dance partner. Indeed you had been the only woman I had wanted to dance with at all. I had gone to the picnic to see you. I had read your book. I had sought you out again and again without understanding why it was that you intrigued me so. But now I knew. Now I understood.

As I said before, I had loved you almost all along.

*7*

The carriage ride back to Steventon was quiet for the most part. Lucy drifted off to sleep early on and I allowed her to rest her head upon my shoulder. It obstructed my view of you who sat next to her, and of that I was grateful. Any sight of you just then would have hurt too much.

"Your uncle will be pleased to find that you've found yourself a wife, Lefroy. Something to settle you down." Henry said teasingly, referring to Lucy. I smiled a bit and looked outside the window.

"A wealthy wife of family." I said. "He would be overjoyed."

"Is that all your uncle is concerned with?" Your voice. I closed my eyes, feeling very unhappy. You were upset with me, I could tell. You did not like what I had said about justice, and had quite probably not liked what that said about me. I had disappointed you, Jane... but it was better that way. After all, I was leaving. And even if I was not, what then? I had nothing for you. "Wealth and lineage?"

"Jane." Henry said, most likely sensing tension.

"What?" You asked. "I am merely curious as to the state of his uncle's priorities. Is money all that matters? Are education and merit held in such small regard these days that--"

"My uncle's priorities are much the same as everyone else's." I interrupted you, keeping my eyes on the passing country - my heart bleeding pain in to every hole it could fill. Please, I pleaded with you silently, end this. Stop your judging. You knew nothing of me.

A pause.

"Are they the same as yours?" You asked.

"Priorities speak little of a person unless you know why it is they are forced to prioritize as they do."

"What reason other than wealth would force a man to prioritize punishment above justice and money above affection?"

Were you speaking of my uncle, Jane... or of me?

"Obligation." I responded without a thought.

"Obligation to what?" You asked with a laugh. "To your pocketbook?"

I swallowed, and looked across from me to Eliza and Henry whose eyes seemed to have been on me all along. A very awkward silence hung in the air for a long moment. I could not show you or anyone in that carriage the extent of my feelings for you. I could not show how I cared or how your words stung.

"And who would you have me marry?" I asked. "A well educated young woman of small fortune? I might be penniless with no means to support myself or her but, oh, we would have great literary conversations."

Now they were looking at you who said nothing.

"We do not do what we desire." I continued, once again looking out from the window. "We do what we must."

"What must we?" Lucy asked groggily as she awoke from her sleep. No one answered her. "Jane?" She asked. "Tom?" More silence. "What must we?"

"Lucy." Eliza spoke. "Why do you not tell us what was your favorite part of the fair?"

And Lucy, never missing an opportunity to speak, did speak.

"Oh, the whole affair was immensely entertaining, was it not?" She asked. "The high walkers, particularly..."

After that I heard no more. I stopped listening, and anyway, I do not believe it was long before she stopped talking. She must have realized that there was an even better opportunity for her, which was pretending to fall back asleep and lay her head back on my shoulder. I did not mind, for I felt sorry for her. She was in love with me as I was in love with you, and neither of us would have what we desired.

I would have wished that pain on no one.

*8*

Henry and I stood at your door before I departed with Lucy back to her home. He had asked to speak with me and, as I stood there, I was certain I would not want to hear what it was he had to say.

"Tom." He started, clearing his throat. I stood rigidly with my hands clasped behind my back, a nod was all I gave him in response. "Allow me to apologize for my sister's behavior. She is given over to fits of strong opinion."

I said nothing. He took a deep breath and clasped me on the shoulder.

"She is in love with you, Tom."

I swallowed. I was not sure if the news was good or bad, for in truth... it was both.

"She's told you this?" I asked.

A pause.

"No." He said, taking his hand from me. "But if tonight was any indication--"

"I am leaving." I interrupted him abruptly, not wanting to hear what it was he was going to say. If you loved me, if he had some proof that it was so - leaving would be unbearable. He furrowed his forehead.

"Your uncle--"

"Has sent for me, yes. I will be gone the day after to-morrow."

Henry looked down and nodded. He seemed almost relieved, but distressed as well.

"Does Jane know?"

"Why would Jane know?" I asked.

"Do you care for my sister?"

"Sir, I find that this conversation has ventured to become rather a bit more familiar than I am willing to allow."

"I assume that means yes." He said with a laugh.

Again, I said nothing. Again he took a deep breath.

"Then do what you must, Lefroy... but do not neglect to remember her feelings."

"I rarely have occasion to remember my own, Austen."

He laughed again shortly, though appeared to be largely not amused.

"I shall come to London some time. Visit for a spell."

I bowed shortly and turned to go, but something compelled me to turn back to your brother.

"I would never conduct myself intentionally in any way as to cause your sister distress." I paused. "I do care for her."

It was dark and it was slight... but I could see that your brother was smiling.

"I know." He said, and his smile widened. "Everyone knows."

I looked down, an ironic smile playing upon my own lips. Henry bowed.

"Lefroy." He said.

I bowed once again, and turned back to the carriage. I stopped short and again, I turned back to your brother.

"When you say everyone..."

"Goodnight, Lefroy." Were the last words I heard from a very amused Henry before the door shut behind him.

*9*

I was unable to sleep that night as I had expected. I had thought that I had been in love before, but realized now that I had never been... and I was finding my first true experience with it to be a bit more unpleasant than books and second hand accounts would have you believe. While there was a vague sense of euphoria that clouded my mind when I thought of you, there was mostly just pain. I wanted to imagine you and wanted to forget you - and I was finding it very difficult to reconcile the two desires.

"Jane..." I whispered your name to myself, just wanting to feel it on my tongue. I fancied you could hear me. That, somehow, as you lay in bed staring up as I did... you heard me whisper to you. Absurd, I know - but it comforted me.

"Tom?" A soft feminine voice crept in to my ears. I sat up abruptly as my room filled with the light of one flickering candle.

"Lucy?" I asked in confusion. I had not even noticed her open my door. She walked completely in and shut the door behind her. "Lucy, what are you doing? Can you imagine the kind of trouble you could get us both in to if--"

"I love you!" She interrupted me.

I was quiet for a moment, any angry words of reproach gone from my mind. I smiled softly, sadly, and stood up. I walked over to my window seat and sat back down. Looking out from the window, I held my hand out to Lucy.

"Come here and sit with me a moment."

I felt her take my hand and sit next to me, but I did not look at her right away. I was not sure of what to say or do and I knew if we were to be caught sitting there in such a compromising way it would hurt Lucy and her family. But she loved me and I... I felt somehow responsible for taking some of that burden away from her. I took a deep breath.

"Lucy," I started and then looked at her. I could see clearly two wet lines drawn vertically down her face. "Do not cry."

"I know you think I'm just a stupid little girl... but you're leaving and I had to tell you."

I paused.

"It..." I stopped, not quite certain of what words were to come from my mouth, but knowing I had to say something. "It honors me that you would hold me in such high regard. If someone so wonderful as you could love me, it makes me feel as though I might have a chance in life."

"Do you think..." She started as she wiped the tears from her face. "Do you think you could ever love me, Tom?"

"I think that the man who is lucky enough to win your heart would be a fool not to return your favor." I squeezed her hand. "But I do not deserve it and therefore could never presume to accept or return..." I trailed off.

She looked down, but I took her chin in my hand - forcing her gently to look at me.

"I care for you a great deal. My only wish for you is your happiness... and you would not find that with me."

"I would." She protested.

I stared in to her eyes and then sighed, realizing my best course of action was not to reason with her, but to frighten her.

"All right then." I said as I stood up. "We had better leave quickly."

"What? Leave?" She stood, confusion knitting her eyebrows. I nodded as I retrieved my luggage from under my bed.

"Well, of course. We'll have to run away together. You don't suspect your mother and father would ever allow us to be married."

"Run away?" She asked, sounding quite unhappy.

"Yes. To Ireland."

"Ireland?"

"Yes, where I'm from. My uncle would not allow us to stay with him." I turned to her. "We'll live with my mother and father and all my brothers and sisters. My mother would be grateful to have your help."

"... How many brothers and sisters?"

"Eleven." I answered off handedly.

"Eleven?"

"Mmm."

She looked to me and then to my luggage, then back to me.

"I think I'll be going back to my room now." She said.

"But I thought--"

"What good would a marriage be if we made everyone around us so unhappy?"

Though I smiled on the inside, I managed a resigned expression of understanding.

"You are right." I said. "You must think me a fool."

"No, Tom." She said with a shake of her head. "I could never think that of you."

I smiled.

"Shall we be friends?"

She smiled as well, as though now I was the one to be pitied. She stood on her toes and placed a soft kiss on my cheek.

"I should like that very much." She said and then turned to go... but before she opened the door, she turned back to me. "Tom?"

"Lucy."

"My mother and father... they will not hear of this, will they?"

I held in a laugh.

"It will be our secret." I said, she smiled with a nod and was gone. How quickly young and foolish love dissolved when tested. Perhaps if you offered to run away with me, my affection for you would evanesce...

But no, I thought as I sat on the edge of my bed. If you proved to love me so much as to wish to run away with me, that might well have been the happiest day of my life.

And it was, Jane - as well as the worst. But... I suppose am getting ahead of myself.

*****


	3. Chapter 3

**There You Were**

**Part I**

**Chapter III**

***1***

I do think back occasionally with wonder. I wonder how many things I would have done differently. Would I have avoided meeting you all together?... Or would I have arranged it so that you never knew the circumstances which would eventually force us apart? I do not know, Jane. I do not know if I would have done the honorable thing and left you in peace, or if I would have kidnapped you in your sleep and married you at the first available opportunity. After all this time, I still am unable to piece together a life for us that would have worked out. Perhaps things happened the way they happened because they could have happened no other way. I... do not know.

I only know that I loved you. I have loved you all my life.

***2***

I stood in front of the second floor window at the Ghresham ball for half an hour awaiting your arrival. Carriages and people came and went, and still I stood. I am not sure what I must have looked like standing there and peering out through the dark pleated drapes - silent and still. I only knew I did not want to miss you. This was my last night... our last night. Even if I was to never tell you of my feelings, seeing you and being near you was all I wanted.

There, another carriage... and yet another sigh, for no - it did not carry you.

But wait, could that be...? No. Not nearly as beautiful.

But there, that carriage must have been yours... No? Just how late were you going to be?

"How long do you plan on standing here?" Lucy.

"As long as it takes, my love." I answered her blandly without looking at her. There was a long enough pause before she spoke again to make me think she had walked away, but she had not.

"I understand what you did." She said, surprising me slightly by still being there. I took a deep breath and looked at her only briefly before returning my gaze to the window.

"Oh yes?" I asked. "Do enlighten me."

"You tricked me."

I nodded shortly, grimacing as though I'd been caught at something shameful.

"Please do not think ill of me for it, Lucy. I only meant to show you what you would not see for yourself."

She shrugged slightly, waving her fan around unconsciously.

"I suppose I should thank you then. For it is obvious that I do not love you... I believe I never did." She paused. She did not seem angry with me or spiteful, she was only a young girl telling me the truth of her emotions. "Is that not funny?"

"Immeasurably so."

"Shall you dance with me tonight?" She asked cheerfully, still wanting to show me off I gather.

"Lucy, how very forward of you."

"How can I possibly be forward with a man who was just last night willing to run away with me?" She asked playfully. I do confess I found that to be quite funny and found myself thinking that Lucy was more clever and interesting than people around her might have been predisposed to believe.

"True enough." I responded, then finally did meet her eyes as I bowed fully to her. "Of course I shall dance with you. It would be an honor."

She smiled, curtseyed and was gone.

If she had left any later than that, I might have missed you, my dear... for as soon as I turned back to the window - there you were. The footman helped you down from the carriage. I thought I would be able to observe the whole of your walk in to the house but you looked almost immediately up at me... it was almost as though you had known I was going to be there. I stepped out of sight before you could have been sure it was me and walked away from the window. My heart beat rapidly as I hid myself from view. My sudden nervousness was due in large part to one fact I had forgotten; you had not been exactly pleased with me the last time we parted ways. Would you still be cross with me? Would you ignore me?

I watched you ascend the staircase from a concealed vantage point - realizing even as I did it that I was behaving strangely. Even for me. I had never before stalked around in the shadows so that I might catch a candid glimpse of someone. The hold you had of me was... frightening.

I followed you in to the ball room and observed as you visually swept the room for... I did not know what. Or whom. For a short moment I allowed myself to think it was me for whom you searched, but told myself it could not have been. Why would you want me? I was nothing like you. I offended your sense of propriety and honor - had done nothing to raise your opinion of me at all. You could have had any single man in the room and so now I was only one of many. I had not remembered you out of a crowd, so why would you choose me out of one?

But still... you did seem to be seeking something hidden to you. You looked and looked, moving from one area to another - peering past face after face. You did not see me. Perhaps...

But then there was Wisley. You saw him and stopped. My heart tightened as I watched him bow, you curtsey - as you began to dance. Had you been searching for him all the while? Wisley? Had his money and stature finally managed to sway you? Did you love him for all the ways he was different from me? I nearly hated you just then, imagining that you could be bought so easily - for the Jane I thought I knew had no price. She was above such pettiness. Had I been wrong about you?

I continued to watch.

No. No, you had not been searching for him... for I could see, even as you tried to conceal it from your dull dance partner, that you were not interested in him in the least. That was when I knew. It was me. I knew it was me.

I asked, perhaps offending Lucy in doing so, the nearest idle husband seeker to dance and we joined the line without you noticing... and a few moments later we were face to face, you and I. I had not to wonder if I had been wrong in my earlier assumption for the look of surprise on your face was confirmation enough... and I had to smile. You looked, not embarrassed, but... happy. No, you were not upset with me at all. We danced and I held your hand, touched your back, could scarcely take my eyes away from you. Though, every instance I looked to you, you were looking to me as well. If only we could have just gone on that way all night, no... for the rest of my life. You were mine and I was yours and we were together. Your soft hand in mine, your beautiful brown gaze upon me.

I loved you so much it hurts. Yes, even now... hurts.

When the dance was ended and I bowed to my partner, I allowed myself a sidelong glance at you. I was awarded with your eyes meeting mine and a slight smile upon your lips. I looked away from you and back to the woman in front of me. Ignoring the screaming impulse I had to grab you and ruin your reputation forever, I smiled and tried to push my feelings for you away. That dance was all we would have - all we could have. I was leaving and I would not torture myself with you all night.

Yet, somehow, we came to stand almost back to back. Had it been accident or subconscious design? Had we both unwittingly maneuvered our circles nearer to one another? I tried to ignore your body so close to mine, but could not... and ended up muttering something about your dancing. Oh, yes. How could I forget? My words had sent you fleeing from the ball room. Passion. You danced with passion - a passion, might I add, that I had not noted from our previous foray together. I can not remember if you laughed, but I do know you thought the idea of a woman demonstrating passion to be of little point. A woman need not demonstrate passion to catch a husband... a sensible woman would not. That was what you said. No, not a husband. Not in the case of many of your peers, I'm afraid. Neither passion nor love was very commonplace in marriage.

I looked at Wisley, knowing you meant him. What a dull husband he would make... No, I supposed you would not demonstrate passion to catch a man such as him. But a man such as me. A lover, Jane...

No, my intention had not been to hurt you. My words had not meant much - just simple flirtation, really (If I had said what I had truly wanted to say, I might have scandalized you beyond repair). Even so, you excused yourself from your company. I cursed silently at myself for not being more sensitive to what I was saying - and then took several moments to decide between staying where I was and going after you. I should have stayed. Everyone would have seen you flee, and would know I was following you. There was enough talk surrounding us by then, did we really need any more? I followed you anyway. What did their talk matter to me? I would be gone in less than a day and I had hurt you. How could I not follow?

I made it to the top of the stairs just in time to see you brush John Warren aside. Good on you, Jane. I dare say you could have been a bit more rude... but you did not know what kind of low person he was then. Neither did I. When I saw how you passed him over, I realized you might well do the same to me if I approached you. Perhaps you needed to be alone. John looked up at me and I turned around, putting on my best show of not caring what it was that ailed you. I did have some inclination that my behavior might get related back to your father by way of John's mouth, and that I did care about. I would not have your father knowing I chased after you in a most undignified fashion for us both.

I stepped back in to the ballroom and Lucy was upon me in an instant.

"Tom, are you enjoying the ball?" She asked. I smiled tiredly. I was fast forgetting that I had so recently thought the child to be clever or interesting.

"No." I decided to tell her the truth.

"No?" She asked - apparently not having expected anything but, yes of course. I looked at her and bowed for what felt like the hundredth time that night. The millionth time in my life.

"But I suppose a dance with you would remedy that." I continued. She smiled widely, and I accompanied her to the dance floor as I had promised I would... dancing, bowing, holding her sweaty young hand. All the while I thought of you, and I grew sad. This was to be my life, wasn't it? Attending balls I did not wish to be at, dancing with women who I did not wish to dance with; women who were not you. A life full of polite and compulsory behavior. Devoid of happiness. I had never known myself to have such melancholy thoughts or emotions and it was quite disturbing.

When the dance was over, I made sure to acquire myself the nearest glass of wine... and just as the glass was in my hand, I caught sight of you, along side Lady Gresham - walking past the east entrance of the ballroom. I was at the balustrade by the time you were speeding down the stairs again, Lady Gresham having already parted ways with you. I watched you this time without any intention of going after you at all, instead wondering what it was she had wanted with you... and why you appeared to be so upset. My aunt and her daughter solved the mystery for me almost right away.

She - my aunt - called Wisley a good opportunity for you. I made a quiet noise of contempt... I was tired of such talk. As though marriage was all politics. It was not just the idea of a person spending their life with someone they did not love, it was the idea of a person selling their self. Perhaps that it what you meant when you spoke of being bought at the fair. Blatant prostitution with a prettier name.

At least Wisley had not proposed, of that I was grateful... until Lucy solved the rest of the puzzle for me. She believed you should have accepted Wisley at once. I looked at her suddenly. She seemed to realize right away by my reaction and the reaction of her mother that she had said something that was not supposed to be said. She had not understood why that news was to be kept from me... but my aunt understood. I wanted you, she knew. I wanted you and was standing in the way of you and a good marriage. She knew that I could not hope to propose without my uncle's consent and, close as she was to you, most likely wished to protect you from disappointment. She dragged Lucy away, but the damage had been done. Now I knew. I clenched my jaw and dropped my glass, not caring about the mess of wine and shattered crystal, and took to the stairs in search of you.

Why? Why had you not told me? We were friends, were we not? You loved me, did you not? You must have. God, you must have. I could not have imagined all that lay between us.

I stopped outside and reigned in my breathing, my hand over my heart. I was making a fool of myself, and for what? You had always been meant for Wisley. He was a good opportunity for you and I was not. He had the money to marry you and to keep you, and I did not. No one wanted us to be together... except for me, and it was not usual for me to get what I wanted. Not really.

After a minute or so, I regained my composure and continued to look for you.

***3***

When I was sixteen years old, still living in Ireland, there was a girl. Milky white skin, cheeks always flushed red... long auburn hair that she never seemed to wear up. Her name was Abigail and she was beautiful. Headstrong, opinionated, stubborn - everything a proper lady of her position should not have been, but these traits were exactly what attracted me to her. Hers were the first lips to ever touch mine, the first hands to ever caress my skin. My first lover. I was young and thought myself to be in love.

I proposed to her in the rain, underneath a tree. I promised her the world and more, and she accepted. She threw her arms around me and placed kiss upon kiss on my cheeks. I smiled, trying to catch her mouth with mine. She laughed and cried and swore her love to me. To the best of my recollection I do not believe I ever told her I loved her. I am uncertain of why this was, but the words were never said. I showed her in other ways, with my actions. With my body. We knew it was wrong to indulge in each other the way we did but youth knows little of anything but its own blindingly strong emotions... and so we made love under that tree, shivering in the cold.

I walked her home later that day. I remember that I kissed each of her eyes in turn, softly... tenderly. It was the last time I would touch her. There, in her garden, was the last time we would see each other. I was never quite sure of what had taken place, but Abigail had been sent away shortly after I helped her home. I do not believe a single soul had ever known of our short-lived engagement, but I do believe her being sent away was a result of the amount of time she had spent with me. Had I been a more suitable match from a better family, we would have been married. While I can look back on the incident now and know I did not love her, that I did not know enough of myself much less of anything else to engage in such a relationship - it did leave me heart broken at the the time. It changed me irrevocably and, though I would leave for London the next year and experience much more that would shape me in to the man I was to become and be when you and I first met - it was then and not in law school that I learned what I knew of justice.

It was then that I learned the cruel nature of the world and my place in it.

***4***

At length I found you standing at a fountain. It was dark, but I was sure it was you. I approached you slowly, swearing to myself that I would not give away my emotions. Neither my pain nor my anger.

Do you remember? I told you I had just learned of Mr. Wisley's proposal, I congratulated you - hating you, hating myself. You threw my own words back at me... was there an alternative for an educated young woman of small fortune? Were you trying to goad me? I spoke next with words of disbelief, though my calmness belied the raging emotion my face tried to conceal. How? How could you consider marrying Wisley? Even with all the familial pressure? Even with Lady Gresham and her particular talent at forcing what she wanted? Even with all his money and everything he could give you? You, marry without love. I asked you, you of all people I said, how could you throw the rest of your life away by marrying a man whom you did not love? What I really meant was, how could you do this to me?

Ah, but there was no use for you in considering the alternative... because I was leaving the next day. Somehow you knew.

Who told you, I wondered vaguely. I had not wanted you to know. Though I did not really think about it. I only looked at you, hoping your words were, but at at the same time hoping they were not, an admission of your feelings for me. Was it true? Was I your alternative? You looked at me, sadness in your eyes - and for the first time I was aware that I was not the only one suffering from my situation.

Then you leaned in, Jane. You leaned in to me and I did not know what to do. I had kissed so many other women - had all the experience in the world, the experience I had teased you for not having so many times. And now. Now... I felt like a boy who knew nothing of anything. I was scared, and I hesitated. Could I let this happen? For if I did, there would be no going back for me. You would know my feelings and I would have you, Jane. I did not know and nor did I care how. You would be mine, for I could not bare anything otherwise.

Our lips met and I felt my body dissolve under the wave of emotion that assaulted every one of my senses. I went hot and cold with each gentle caress of your tongue - so tentative, so sweet. If ever there was any small doubt in my mind of my love for you, this kiss shattered it beyond all recognition. I loved you - indeed it was hard for me to conceive of a time that I did not love you. Somehow I always had. My world was nothing but you...

So when you pulled away and asked if you had done that well I had not even to think a beat before assuring you that you had. Very well. It had been a defining moment of my life. I held my hand against your neck lightly, suddenly so happy - my mood completely having changed. It was like nothing I had ever felt before. This was why people wanted to fall in love. For all the pain it could cause, there was no matching it in the elation it could cause also. You said you had just wanted to kiss well at least once and I smiled at the endearing sentiment. Jane, I planned on kissing you again and again, not just once. I might have said so, but we were interrupted by some passers by. I pulled you away quickly without thinking, not wanting the moment to end. Beneath the shadowed safety of a tree I hid us under I professed my feelings to you. It seemed so natural to finally tell you that I belonged to you, that everything a part of me was yours. I had nothing to my name and could not hope to marry you until it was settled away with my uncle, but you had to know. Even though I was worth nothing...

Though you did not seem to think so. With a smile you asked me to let you decide my worth, and I knew you thought me worth more than I deserved you to think. Oh god, you felt for me what I felt for you. I could have died then a there a happy man.

The group of people nearby grew closer and I pulled you away yet again. I asked what we would do for I was at a loss. Again, you repeated my own words to me... What we must. We would do what we must. Not what we desired. You seemed so hopeful, but I could not dare to hope just yet. Doing what we must implied speaking with your father, speaking with my uncle. Most likely my uncle first. It would be difficult and we would have to be careful in the way we approached the matter. You took my hands in yours and kissed them, the act was so tender and so... loving.

I smiled and took your chin in my fingers, wanting nothing more than for our lips to meet once again. You appeared shy - nervous - this time, for it was me and not you who had the confidence to pursue a kiss now.

I pressed my mouth to yours and your arms went around my neck almost right away. I was pleased by how comfortable you were showing yourself to be with me. You were perfect and I would not have guessed that you had never done this before. As I wrapped my arms around your back pulling you tightly in to me, you let out just the slightest sound of pleasure and then pulled away. It was a good thing that you did so because that noise was enough to sending my head spinning with lust and had we kept on the way we were, I am not sure that I would have been able to stop. I ducked my head attempting to meet your downcast eyes, but I could tell from your flushed cheeks and embarrassed smile that there would be no more kissing of that nature for the night. I grinned and held your chin so that you would look at me. You held my hand against your cheek.

The voices grew nearer to us still and I dropped my hand, stepping back from you. A few moments of silence between us were enough to allow reality to set in. I was still leaving the next day. This night would be the last we saw of each other for quite some time.

"I will write to you." I swore, wanting to reach out but too aware that we could be spotted. You nodded, your eyes wet - though you did smile.

"A letter seems such small consolation when I will not see you or..." You did not seem to have the words, which struck me as odd. You always had the words. I was elated to see that you would miss me.

"Can I hope that you will write to me?" I asked.

"You need not hope, for you should know that I will write to you." You responded, and my heart felt so full I feared it would burst. I looked around quickly and risked taking your hands once again.

"I will work out a plan, I promise, and I will marry you, Jane. If you'll have me." The words came from my mouth in a nervous jumble, much the same as my confession of belonging to you had come not even five minutes before. You squeezed my hands in yours and the expression of joy upon your features made me so happy.

"I thought you could not yet offer marriage." You said. I laughed.

"Indeed, I can not." I responded taking one of your hands and pressing it against my chest with both of mine. "But I can offer you my heart as a promise that I _will_ ask for your hand one day, properly."

"Then accept my heart as a promise that I will give you my hand on that wonderful day when you are able to request it."

"I accept what is so kindly given to me." I kissed you firmly upon the lips without thinking, and then pulled away from you completely. I bowed, and you curtseyed. "Miss Austen."

"Mr. Lefroy." You responded. I could stay out there with you no longer, for your family and mine had no doubt noticed by now that you and I both were absent from the ball. I turned to go, feeling my heart sink immediately - I was not ready to leave you. I prayed that this would be different from my previous ill fated attempt at love. It had been painful to learn that Abigail was gone - that we had been so easily separated... but by the time I had made my move to London, I could no longer remember the exact color of her eyes or even the shape of her face. I had recovered almost completely. Had something happened and I was to be parted from you, it would have destroyed me.

No, I was not ready to leave you.

*5*

Though leave you I did - and I returned to the party alone. It had been unspoken between us, but we both knew that returning together would not have been wise. I took my place amongst a circle of acquaintances and tried to keep up in dull conversation, but my thoughts were hopelessly and understandably elsewhere. I took great pleasure, however, in knowing what we had shared outside... what only you and I knew. You were mine and I was yours and we were in love, and no one could take that away from us. I watched you from across the room, as you moved gracefully from circle to circle. As you chatted with some friends. As you danced with Wisley once more.

I narrowed my eyes, unable to keep down the sudden flare of jealousy that made my face go hot. I do believe I hated him.

"What about you, Mr. Lefroy?" Someone or other had said. I looked at him and at the other three faces whose eyes rested on me awaiting an answer abruptly, having not the foggiest idea of what I had just been asked. I cleared my throat.

"Er... I suppose I... would have to say, I have never been one for that sort of thing myself."

And then, dear Jane, they - all of them - stared at me silently. Either my answer had been offensive or it just did not relate to the question. I cleared my throat again and took a sip from the new glass of wine I held in my hand.

"Yes, well." The man who had questioned me said, looking rather confused.

I paused, and then... to hell with it.

"I apologize, I have no clue as to what you were saying. My attentions were otherwise preoccupied." I responded truthfully with a smile, there was more silence... and after a moment I bowed and walked away. Managing to meet your eyes as I made my way back to the refreshments, I grimaced amusedly. You furrowed your forehead in question, but did not approach me. Even as every part of my body ached for you, I knew the importance of keeping our distance.

"I've noticed a bit of flirtation between you and the Austen girl." George Lefroy commented as he came to stand beside me. I smiled.

"There are only so many walks a man can take before he gets bored and searches for something else to keep himself occupied." I replied as I smiled and bowed at a pretty young woman who walked passed me, she smiled shyly in return and curtseyed in response. A moment later I looked at George with an ironic smirk.

"I see." He said. "Well, take care. She is all but promised to Mr. Wisley. Mother and father believe that they will be married in the fall."

I had to grit my teeth to keep from saying what I wanted to say. Why did he, did any of them, think they could go around planning your life for you? Wisley had proposed so therefore you were to be married. No one seemed to take in to account that you had your own mind with your own thoughts.

"She has accepted him then?" I asked a bit shortly, knowing it gave me away slightly - but I could not help it. Now that you were really and truly mine, I was finding it very difficult to keep it to myself. You loved me, not Wisley.

"Well, I have not heard of her accepting quite yet but I am certain--"

"I wish them both very happy." I interrupted him. "You need not warn me, George, for to-morrow I will be gone. What I do today is of little consequence."

"But you have more than yourself to consider, cousin."

I sighed.

"Let me explain something to you, _cousin_. I have had this conversation already, and allow me to lay your fears to rest, for I have no intention of hurting Miss Austen or--"

"Miss Austen?" He asked, confused.

"Yes, what were you--"

"Tom, I speak to you of my sister." He said. I was silent. "Surely you must have noticed how fond of you she has come to be. Have you not thought of how your frivolous flirtation with other women effects her?"

Well, this was funny. What was it with Hampshire men and their unyielding need to protect their sisters from me? I all but laughed as I pat my cousin on the shoulder.

"George, you are a good and caring brother, but do not worry about your sister. She will forget about me the moment I am gone." I took another drink from my glass. "Lucy and I have an understanding."

"An understanding?" He asked. "What sort of understanding?"

"The sort of understanding where I threatened to run away with her to scare her out of her feelings for me." I answered. I am not sure what I had expected him to say or do in response to that, but he laughed a bit.

"And what would you have done if she said she would go with you?"

I paused.

"Well let us both thank God that is not the course she chose to take." I took yet another drink from my glass. George nodded.

"You do not care much for people other than yourself, do you?" He asked. I opened my mouth to speak, but he continued. "Forgive me, cousin, for being so blunt... but your actions seem often to stand great chance of hurting some poor girl irreparably." He looked briefly to you who did not notice, then back at me. "And this time I do not just speak of my sister."

I looked down and he walked away. Taking a deep breath I looked at you once more - your smiling face looked to me as well... though the smile slowly went from your face as you met my eyes. I tried to smile for you, but do not know how well I pulled it off. I should have been a strong enough man to leave you be - to flee from Hampshire and never see you again. I knew what lay ahead of us and how difficult it could prove to be. If my uncle denied his consent I knew it was not just my own heart which stood to be crushed.

But I had you finally... how could I give you up?

***6***

I found Henry outside with Eliza, they seemed just to be coming back to rejoin the party from wherever they had just been.

"Henry." I said, addressing him informally - not bothering with a bow. Eliza looked at him as though she knew something was wrong.

"I'll follow you." Henry said to her, gesturing that she go on without him. She nodded, and was gone. He looked at me, his face showing obvious concern. "What is it?" He asked.

"I must ask of you a favor." I responded, taking care to keep my voice down.

"What sort of favor?"

I took a very deep breath and bit down on my teeth.

"Your sister has given me her consent to write to her." I started. "But I am worried that my letters may not reach her, you understand."

Your brother sighed.

"Yes, I believe I do."

"I know what liberty I am taking by asking this of you, Henry, but I must. If I address my letters to you, will you see to it that they make their way to Jane?"

"Tom, I must ask you... what are your intentions toward my sister? Will you write to her for a week, two perhaps, and then forget her once you settle back in to your city life? If so, then I can not agree to this. I will not see her hurt."

"I love her." I answered honestly, knowing that if he was to help us he would have to know the whole truth. "My intentions toward her are honorable, I assure you."

Henry was silent for a moment.

"Do you intend on asking her to marry you?"

"Well, I suppose I already have in a way..."

"What?" He asked in an outraged whisper. "How does one ask a lady to marry him in a way?"

"I have promised myself to her. I..." I paused and took a short breath in and then out. "I can not pretend that there are no impediments to a marriage between us, but I will devise someway. If I somehow find a way to introduce her to my uncle - if he only knew her without knowing the circumstances..."

"And if you can not? What then? What will happen to Jane?"

I looked down and clenched my eyes shut, not wanting to imagine what would become of either you or me if my uncle denied his consent. I looked up and met your brother's eyes.

"I would never injure her - it would be the same as injuring myself." I said. " Please... please do this for us."

After a moment... Henry nodded, a small smile spreading slowly across his face. He put his hand on my shoulder.

"I must say I did not expect this." He laughed a little. "But I will help you in any way that I am able."

I smiled, fighting to hold back tears of relief and joy. I shook his hand.

"I am indebted to you."

"Oh, just knowing I was right all along is enough."

He clasped me on the shoulder once more before walking away, laughing as he did so. It was a comforting feeling, knowing he was happy for us - that he would help us. We were not alone, Jane.

"Henry." I said, turning to him. He stopped and looked at me, a smile still on his face. "Will you do one more thing for me?"

***7***

I walked the path up to your door quietly, hoping that you would be there awaiting my arrival - hoping that Henry had given you my message. He had hesitantly agreed, but seemed weary of the trouble we could stir up if we were to be caught. It was late and this was a risk, but I had to see you. I would call the next day before I left, but it would be a quick and formal farewell. I could not allow that to be how we said goodbye. So as I approached your door, I was worried that you would not be there - that Henry would have judged the risk too great. Or perhaps he told you of my plans to come to you that night, and you would choose not to see me. What if you thought it was all a mistake? What if you regreted everything?

I stood in front of your home, quiet as the grave. You were not there.

Sighing, I looked up at your window and then I looked down. This had not been a good idea. What had I been thinking? Of course you would not be there. What if your mother or father caught me there with you? The scandal it would cause! Your reputation would be lost completely. It had been wrong of me even to suggest a meeting in the dead of night - and at your home of all places.

I turned and prepared to go.

But there was a rustling behind me.

I turned abruptly and smiled. There you were - ushered by your brother, silhouetted in the moonlight, a wrapper pulled tightly across your chest, your hair spilling in cascades over your shoulders. I had never seen it down before that moment. You nearly took my breath away.

"... Yes, but I do not understand what I am doing outside in my nightgown--" You stopped suddenly as you caught sight of me, and suddenly you were beaming. "Tom?"

"Jane." I said, and closed the distance between us immediately. My arms were around you and my lips upon yours before another word was spoken. Again, I could feel myself dissolve - waves of hot and cold breaking over me as you touched your tongue to mine.

"Lefroy." You brother whispered contemptibly. I stepped away from you, clearing my throat, realizing what I had just done. You put your hand to your mouth - hiding an embarrassed smile. "Good God, man. Have the decency to wait until I've gone inside."

"How long do we have?" I asked.

"I will keep look out but I would not suggest more than a few minutes." He shook his head, letting out a breath. "I do not know how I let you talk me in to this."

I gave him a small appreciative smile, he nodded shortly as well - looked to you for a moment, and then turned back to the house - leaving you and I alone. I turned to face you and took your hands - pulling you further in to the garden and away from the house, further in to the darkness, where we would be safe.

"Why did you not tell me you were going to do this?"

"I wanted to surprise you... And if I was unable to make it here, I did not want to leave you disappointed." I paused, a small nervous laugh. "You must think me mad."

"Yes, but it is a magnificent madness." You responded, I smiled and kissed you again - deeply and passionately. It took all the restraint I had to keep myself from pushing you against a tree and pulling your nightgown up over your hips. I had never wanted a woman the way I wanted you, but I was not going to trample over your innocence. Not just yet. There would be plenty of time for that when we were married.

Would it not have been glorious, my love?

"Must you leave, Tom?" You asked, pulling away - resting your head on my chest.

"Yes, I must." I said, holding your chin so that you looked in to my eyes. "I must begin our work of convincing the judge. I will send word of my progress to Henry. He has promised to help us."

"Yes, I know." You said. "And do you promise not to forget me?"

I swept a curl from your forehead.

"You have an even greater imagination than I thought if you can ever conceive of the possibility that I would ever forget you."

You embraced me tightly.

"I can not believe that you are here. Is this really happening?" You asked. Closing my eyes, I held you to me. "Now that we are together, how could we ever part?" Sadness enveloped your words - breaking my heart.

"We will be together again." I whispered in to your hair. "If all goes well, we will be together always." I withdrew from you a bit to look you in the face. "And I can think of no reason why all should not go well."

It was a lie, you understand. There were plenty of reasons, reasons in excess, why all may not have gone well. Please know, Jane, that my uncle was quite capable of great kindness and generosity. His actions, though they may have at times seemed cold hearted or cruel, were justified always at least to the extent that they were done with my best interests at heart. It was upon him whom I depended because he allowed it. He did care for me... but this was precisely the trouble. What I wanted and what he thought to be best for me may not have been the same - and he was, unfortunately, exceedingly unpredictable.

I would not voice my worries to you just then... I could not bring myself to do it.

"I wrote to my sister." You whispered. "I explained that the day has come that I would flirt my last with you. I wrote that tears flowed from my eyes at the melancholy idea..." You shook your head, looking down.

"Did they?"

"They did." You said, then looked back up at me - your eyes bright with pain and tears. "They do."

I felt the sting of tears behind my own eyes as I cupped your face... I pressed my lips to yours gently and enveloped you in my arms. I was not sure how I was ever going to be able to let you go.

"Why do I fear that I will never see you again?" You asked.

"You need not--"

"Jane!" Came a harsh whisper from near the house. It was Henry. We each looked at him suddenly - my heart racing.

"Henry, what is it?"

"Someone's coming." He answered. You turned suddenly back to me, looking stricken. This was it then, I had to go.

"When will I see you?" You asked urgently.

"Tomorrow. I shall call, I promise."

You did not look happy about it, for you knew as I did that we would not be allowed to Jane and Tom the next day. We would have to be Miss Austen and Mr. Lefroy, and that would have to be enough.

Henry grabbed your arm and began to pull you away.

"Jane!" He whispered again. I kissed you once more quickly, and then you allowed him to pull you away. I hid deeper in the shadows, watching. Just as the two of you made it to front stoop, the door creaked open.

"Jane? Henry?" Came your mother's voice. You and your brother looked up to her. "What are you doing?"

"We were just..." Henry started, but apparently knew not what to say.

"Enjoying the view of the stars." You interjected.

"In your night gown, Jane?" She asked. "I've never heard of such a thing." She said as she turned back in to the house. Henry followed after her... but you turned to look back at the dark garden that hid me from view. I knew you could not see me, but you must have known I could see you. You smiled for me and I smiled for you - and then you were gone.


End file.
